


Restricted Motion

by flinchflower



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Hurt/Comfort, Lecturing, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 21: Cage.  John copes with Dean’s attitude towards Sam’s future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restricted Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Dean paces back and forth in the tiny room he shares with his brother, watching as Bobby and Sam head towards one of the longer trails across the yard. The noon sun’s shining down on Sam’s brown hair, and he thinks to himself that John should have made him put on a hat, it’s gonna snow any minute. Dean’s fucked, that’s for sure. His father sent him up here over three hours ago, after he broke up the argument between Dean and Sam, and Dean’s about to lose it. He’d listened with everything he had, waiting to hear the yelling, but it never came, he never heard the tell tale sounds of John beating Sam’s ass, and miracle of that had him nervous as hell. The way Sam’s stride matches Bobby’s, he’s listening to the older man, not angry or upset, and Dean wonders how the hell John managed to talk him down, because Dean’d had him pretty fucking pissed off. Not that he’d meant to, of course.

Bobby’d asked Sam if he thought he might finish that law degree, and Sam’s face had gone distant for a moment, and Dean jumped right in with a sarcastic comment. Never took much to set Sam off, when it came to that subject, and the arguments were never good – it was one of the only places where both of the boys’ insecurities came head to head, and since Dean would never tell Sam the thought of Sam leaving again just about killed him, and Sam would never back down from Dean’s scorn for so-called higher education… well, it was never good. John finally sighed and went up to beard the lion in its den, so to speak.

“What the hell, dad, I’ve been up here for hours, I told you I was sorry.”

John gives his oldest son an even look. “I can leave you up here for a couple more.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, but his mouth takes over for him, just as it had earlier that day. “Just spank me and get it over with.”

John takes a seat at the end of the bed, looking serious, and Dean pales as the words echo in the room. “I don’t think so, son. I try not to give you what you want when you’re being disciplined,” he says wryly, “though if you keep up with that mouth I might be tempted into it.” Dean slumps down against the headboard, looking away. “And I wouldn’t be too disappointed if I could go a couple weeks without spanking my twenty-eight year old kid, either.” The boy has the grace to flush at that. “Seriously, what gives, Dean?” He’s answered by silence, lets it go for a few minutes, then stands up. “All right then. Not ready to talk, you can stay up here until supper’s over, and we’ll try again.”

Dean surges up, a desperate look replacing his attitude problem. “NO! Don’t leave me alone up-“ He breaks off, and looks embarrassed. Aha. John’s got it, now.

“Maybe we need to talk about the monsters in the closet, eh, kiddo?” Dean looks bewildered, and John opens the closet door. It takes him a minute to spot it, the worn cardinal red hoodie with the Stanford logo printed on the front of it. He pulls it out and tosses it on the bed before his oldest son. Dean glares at it, then the anger suffuses with worry and he picks it up, running his long fingers over the soft fabric.

“I thought you’d realize sooner or later that your brother’s gonna need something more out of life, Dean.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I lost my temper, and we’ve had that discussion before, you and I, and Sam and I have talked it over as well.”

“You’re gonna make him leave again.”

Where the hell did that come from? “No, Dean. Eventually, your brother’s not gonna be able to handle hunting full time, and I want him to be thinking about what he wants when that time comes.”

“Like you ever did.”

He’s tempted to swat the boy, but restrains himself. “I have always had plans, Dean. And backup plans if I don’t get the choices I want.”

Dean stares. “You never said.”

“No. Just like I never asked you what time you wanted to go to bed, Dean. Some decisions a man makes for himself, for his family, and they don’t bear discussing. Wait,” he says as Dean begins a protest, frown creasing his face. “I never pushed you to confess what it is you want out of life. Think on that. I just try to give you what you need, boy.”

“That why you spanked me so many times?”

God. He would like nothing better at that point to have the boy bare-assed over his knee and remind him what it’s like not to be able to sit down to supper, but he’s not going to do it, not when the kid’s begging for it. He’ll find another way.

“Yes,” he says. “That’s exactly why. And it’s why I make sure there’s work for you when you ask, and that you have places to go when you’re hurt or too tired to do the job you want to do.” Dean has the grace to look ashamed of himself. “I’ve never tried to cage you boys, Dean. And I’m damn sure that’s why Sam gets so pissed when you harp on him about college. You’re putting him into a neat little box, kiddo, trying to control him, and you’re setting yourself up for failure if you try to do that. Winchester boys don’t tolerate being cooped up away from what it is they want out of life, and I suggest you quit trying. If and when Sam decides he wants to finish that degree, or pursue something else, you boys will find a way to make it work. Sam’s not the selfish little boy he once was, son. I think you conveniently forget that, sometimes.”

Dean puts his head in his hands, and John knows he hit home, there, just hopes the message is clear and gonna seat itself without any more lecturing or yelling.

“Dad, I know that,” he says, sounding desperate. “I just… I’m…”

“I’m not putting up with either of you hiding fears now any more than I did when you were boys,” he says, nodding at the closet. He gives it a minute. “And I thought I reminded you of that after you boys raised that demon, here.” Dean’s nodding reluctantly, and John waits, reminds himself that part of hunting is patience, that he’s a patient man.

“I don’t want him to leave me,” comes the quiet confession.

“He’s not gonna leave you. He loves you too much for that. I love you too much for that. You’ve got to trust in that, son.”

“I don’t know what would be worse, him… on a hunt, you know? Or leaving me like he did.”

“Neither one’s gonna happen, Dean.”

Dean nods quietly, and John understands that this is something his son’s gonna have to work through, that he’s likely to be having some variation on this conversation until it gets through the boy’s stubborn head. He’s been through this with Dean before on different subjects. His boy looks tired. John glances at the clock – two PM. Silences always make these discussions longer, and Sam’s been out a long time with Bobby. He startles his son by reaching up and pulling the covers on the bed back, lifting the kid by the back of his belt when he doesn’t move for his father.

“Go on, lie down.”

“Dad! I’m not a kid, I don’t need a fucking nap-“

John waits, fingers itching to swat, but restraining himself, simply standing there holding the covers back. He’s confident in his ability to out-stubborn his oldest son. It’s Sam that technique doesn’t always work with. Finally Dean sighs and complies with the request, and John covers him up, sits down beside him and brushes a fond hand over the boy’s hair, which is getting a little long.

“You’re not alone, Dean. Get some rest, and I’ll let Sam come get you when he’s ready. You stay up here until then, and if I hear you moving around before an hour passes, I’ll come back up and beat your ass for you.”

He gets a mumbled yessir in reply, and sits until Dean relaxes, is blinking sleepily under the soothing motion of John’s hand on his hair, and the warmth of the blankets over him. Finally, he’s breathing slowly enough that John knows he won’t disturb him if he rises, and he shuts the door quietly behind him, going to see if his baby boy is back from that long walk yet. Seeing Sam’s smile, explaining to the kid that Dean’s stuck until Sam rescues him, he thinks to himself that it’s a hell of a thing that being caged is the best way to teach his son how to set his brother free of his own confinement.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: Rembrandts - Drowing In Your Tears


End file.
